


"...and I fell in love instantly."

by Saltylocks



Series: A story about him [2]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Falling In Love, M/M, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-29 01:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3877387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saltylocks/pseuds/Saltylocks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second part, starring the fantastic Man in the Tan Jacket and a sort-of origin story for the Apache Tracker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"...and I fell in love instantly."

**Author's Note:**

> Hey friends, 
> 
> sorry this took so long, and is so long, and... you know. 
> 
> Hugs and kisses,
> 
> and hey,
> 
> thanks.
> 
> EDIT: Smoothed some of the rough edges since first publishing. Should seriously have a beta reader, but I think I'm too distrustful and impulsive. Oh well...

Much, much later:

As Joshua woke up, he was aware of his surroundings even before opening his eyes. He was laying on his side, the sun shining in through the blinds, warming his back and shoulders. Soft, sweet smelling hair covered his face and his arms embraced a warm body, her rib cage moving slowly as she breathed. The woman was still sound asleep. Joshua allowed himself a quick glimpse of her, leaned against her and inhale some of that calming, human scent. 

"Nothing ever changes here," he mused, and sighed a little. "It is like I never left."

The Man in the Tan Jacket had traveled the world. He had seen many things, and he felt worn, no longer the muggy teen he had once been, but a ripe man. Though he hadn't aged like a normal human being, staying in his thirties or forties, his hair had lost it's darkness and become a steel gray, like graphite. Joshua yawned and nuzzled a bit closer to the woman next to him, put his nose to her neck and pressed his chest to her back. She had nothing but hospitable towards him and he wished she would never wake up so he could stay there in the warm bed forever. As far as one night stands went, Joshua thought, this had been one of the better ones.

They were all one night stands, after all. 

The woman (what had she said her name was? Ashley?) was waking up now, he could hear her breathing get shallower. It was sad to think about that what marked a new day for her would mark the end of his night with her. Joshua tried not to dwell. The woman stiffened as she noticed him pressing into her, an instant response to the brain noticing what unconsciously had passed her by. Ashley's breath changed as she stirred and turned over, staring at him in confusion. Her eyes widened, her mouth closed and opened in that weird way that humans liked to do, and she pulled away her warm body from him, gasping and fumbling to get away, leaving him exposed and cold. Joshua sighed and slung his long legs over the other side of the bed, looking for his socks. Time to go. 

As he got up, she peppered him with the usual questions mixed high pitched screaming. Joshua really preferred men when it came down to it, their screams were at least usually lower pitched, though the flailing was mostly the same, like with everyone he ever woke up with. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here? You can't be here,” she was arguing now, an echo of every morning for the past decades, “ you just watch it, don't come closer, I'm calling the Secret...”

Threats of calling the police, huh, he wished that was the first time that happened. Ashley turned around to grab her phone, and as soon as he was out of sight, she forgot about ever meeting him. Joshua watched her face fall and become relaxed, her shoulders sink in the instant bliss of not remembering. Joshua's existence was, as it always was, lost to her. He watched the woman gaze down at the phone in her hand, as he reached to put on his tie.

“What was I... doing?” she mumbled out loud, clutching herself and shaking her head.

Joshua quietly tied his shoes. As long as he didn't speak, she wouldn't notice him. She put the phone back down, then shrugged to herself and turned around, put on a bathrobe, and humming softly, walked into her shower. Joshua dragged his hand through his newly barbed hair, scratching the stubble on his neck. Her fridge had some weird gray mold in it, so he just grabbed a bottle of juice and some bread and headed out the door, carefully closing it so he wouldn't interrupt her singing in the shower.

It bugged him a little that he couldn't remember if her name was Ashley or not, because unlike his bed mates, he usually had a good memory when it came to who'd let him into their home, because they might do that again some day. It might have been Ashley, or something like that. Shirley? Stacy? She had certainly liked him very much when they'd met at the Pinkberry last night. He had struck a conversation over her ordering some strange combination of frozen yogurt and then kept himself in her view the rest of the night. She had smelled strongly like alcohol even before she started on her wasabi-tomato fro-yo, but these days, everyone did, complimentary of that rule about seeing something. Anything but the library, he hated sleeping there, it was stuffy, lonely and so, so cold. Just plain awful, even when the librarians _didn't_ bother him. Ashley and her bed had at least been warm. Joshua squinted at the glaring sun as he headed up the main road.

“Going somewhere?” a monotone voice chimed through him.

“Just back home,” he muttered as the Faceless Woman materialized at his side. Though her feet never touched the ground, she wore red sand shoes and gripped her cotton skirt nervously like she was afraid she would step on it. Her long gray hair flowed very softly in the warm desert wind.

“You look nice today,” Josh added conversationally, and she actually blushed. He felt faintly proud at that, still being able to make her pale unfeatured face change color, even though it had taken him a while to figure out that is was a blush and not asphyxiation.

“You too”, she said in her non-voice, “you look like you are taking care of yourself, eating right and things like that.”

Joshua shrugged and walked on. The Faceless Woman had been his guardian since forever, but had for some reason not been acting like herself since he stepped through the vortex. As she followed him up the stairs, they slid past a murder of librarians sleeping at the front desk and into the lower sections. The halls echoed a little as his heels hit the marble floor, but was mostly muffled by the endless shelves of leather binds. Settling in the tent he'd made from books and a couple of librarian hides, Joshua made tea for them on his portable stove. The Man in the Tan Jacket knew the Faceless Woman wouldn't drink it, of course, though she pretended for him a little, put a couple of sugar cubes in the thin china cup and stirred around until it was cold and undrinkable. She was acting nice, for him, to him. That was new.

“I hope I'm not keeping you from something important,” Joshua said as they sat in his makeshift tent, him with some books and she peacefully clinking the spoon against the sides of the cup, making an eerie sound into the vast space outside.

“Not at all, I'm everywhere,” she answered unfazed and took a fake sip from the tea.

“Good, good,” he said and yawned. 

He got back to his reading, some obscure thing written in the 18th century by a nun of an abandoned order, describing the medical uses of various European plants he had never heard of. It was still early, and he felt peaceful sitting there, just the two of them, like they had done when he was little. He had only been back a couple of days, but already he felt them fall into a sort-of normality. 

“Christianity, right? What a hoot,” he mumbled, but his eyelids felt heavy and when he looked up again, the sun had moved and the Faceless Woman had put away the cup and instead sat on a cushion next to him, very close. Dim light sifted in through the stained windows and poorly held together skins, and he thought he might have snored, judging by the mirth beaming from his friend. 

“Did I fall asleep?” he slurred, made a little uneasy by her closeness. 

“Yes,” she said. “When you sleep, you look like Cecil, your face is like his, but slightly lighter, but when you wake up, you move your mouth and vocal cords and I can see Carlos too. This might be the true joy of children, to see the faces you love mixed up as one, the beings you care for preserved in their offspring for just a while longer, so that they and you are together even if they are a thousand miles away.”

Her flat face had moved closer as she spoke, and Joshua swallowed thickly. She just had this feeling about her that was hard to pin-point, like his eyes told him she was there but he couldn't feel her, no heat or breath or pulse or anything. She was like a ghost. It made his spine tingle, and it got stronger as her hand came up to drag her fingers through his hair. The feeling deepened somehow, becoming more potent with each non-touch she administered. He wasn't sure if he was thrilled or scared out of his mind.

“You have grown up,” she whispered, “so much, and you are such a beautiful boy, and so very lonely.”

She moved her hand again and against all better judgement he wished he could feel it. She was mostly so distant, his guardian, so to have her so close, the only one who could remember him, was incredibly strange. 

“I'm sad because this... mission, or whatever, has taken so long,” he stuttered back, his breath labored. “I wanted to save my dad but it's been so many years, and I'm just waiting for him to arrive here. No one knows me and no one cares. Except for you, you are always here, and that's, that's great! It's just... difficult, 's all.”

The Faceless Woman leaned in more, she was so close to his face now, he shut his eyes quickly...

A loud howl broke them apart, made him sit right up and almost knock the Faceless Woman over as he got up. The sound vibrated through him, it was everything he had ever hoped for.

“Could it be...?” he whispered, as the librarians quivered and joined in with the rising howl, making it echo between the walls of the Library. He stumbled past the Faceless Woman, all but forgotten, stumbled out on the street, as a purple car drove past him. He ran across the block and arrived just to see the scientists get out. 

The Man in the Tan Jacket had feared and longed for this day, the howling that marked the day his Papa would finally arrive in Night Vale. He stopped short of the Main Road, grabbing the building next to him, and kept to the shadows. He wasn't sure what to expect. Finally, a tall man with long curly hair in a bun stepped out of the car, not knowing the danger he would spend his next five years in. Joshua couldn't help but stare. 

Carlos looked so young, and frightened, not the man glowing with love and enthusiasm Josh had met on his 18th birthday so long ago. He guessed Cecil and Night Vale would change all that, turn a careful bookman into the hero everyone said he was. 

He watched his father and the scientists all got into the old science building. What should he do? Should he tell his papa right now? But he couldn't, not before Carlos met Cecil. He had listened up on their history extensively and asked the Faceless Woman, and all sources said it was best not to mess with timelines more than you had to.

Joshua straightened up, determination set on his face. He would just watch, then. He would sit on the front stairs all night if he had to, just to be closer to the man who had once spawned him. He would figure it all out, and he took a step out in the street...

“Hey, look--!”

Joshua didn't realize he was the one being shouted at until the other man slammed into him. They tumbled down and fell on the ground, Joshua under and the man on top, his shoulder smashing into Joshua's sternum. Josh wasn't a small guy, but this man was more compact, all burly muscles, so he naturally knocked the air out of him.

“Why didn't you get the fuck out of the way when I called?” the man said, his teeth gritting and wide blue eyes staring into Joshua's. 

“It is usually no point... as most calls doesn't apply to me,” Joshua wheezed.

He squinted at him and then up at his elaborate headdress of white and black feathers – which would had made sense if he wasn't so clearly of Slavic origin, his face angular and pale with _very_ piercing blue eyes. Joshua swallowed. 

“You are... you are...” he pressed out.

Still no reaction, as the man blinked slowly at him. Something stirred inside Joshua, more than just his lungs screaming for air, and he could feel his cheeks purple slightly under the man's intense gaze. Then the moment was gone and the foreigner rolled off him and got up.

“I don't know what you are talking about. Stay out of my way, idiot.”

Joshua didn't bother saying anything as he got up and brushed himself off. This Slavic man in a Native American headdress, jeans and grey shirt would forget about him anyway, so what was the point in introducing himself? He shot a glance at the Lab and then followed the Apache Tracker down the street. He didn't have anything better to do, anyway, he might as well see what this guy was up to.

Joshua had been told the City Council had sealed off the Post Office, but only the front entrance, and he quietly watched as his new acquaintance opened and swiftly jumped through one of the smashed windows. Inside, the Apache Tracker got down on one knee to touch the ground carefully, a concentrated look on his face. Watching the fake Native American touch the insides of a destroyed building was boring at first, but then the man of Slavic origin started humming slightly. Joshua leaned in closer to hear what it was. 

“Stars shining bright above you,” the gritty man hummed. “Night breezes seems to whisper 'I love you'. Birds singing in the sycamore trees. Dream a little dream of me...”

He quieted again, moving deeper into the demolished post office, touching and smelling everything around him. Joshua did his best no to giggle. The Apache Tracker started singing to himself again, at first low and hesitant, but as he went further in and seemed to think there were nothing evil coming for him, his singing got bolder and he started to coordinate his movements with the lyrics, dance with himself, snapping his fingers and rocking back and fourth, as he rummaged through the piles of scorched packages and assorted viscera that Joshua was careful no to look too closely at. Joshua smiled. He liked Ella Fitzgerald as much as the next guy, quite literally this time, and as the Apache Tracker started on the same song for the third time, Joshua joined in. It wasn't to make himself known or anything, he was just joining in for the sake of it, because he was bored and starved of meaningful human contact.

The man in the Native American headdress stopped singing and turned to him so violently the feathers swayed, his face formed into a scowl. Joshua winced, he wished he would have looked more like before, all tranquil, searching for whatever signs he thought he could find.

“Who are you? Huh? How did you even get in here?” the Apache Tracker barked.

“I followed you,” Joshua said, stepping out a bit from the shadows. Sometimes people wanted to fight if they felt cornered by him, like it was his fault they had forgotten about him. The man didn't move though, just regarded him a bit. Joshua wanted to tell him there was no point trying to remember who he was, that he wouldn't remember him anyway, but at the same time it felt wonderful to have his attention, if only for a short while.

“You didn't answer my other question,” the Apache Tracker said and turned a little so he could keep his eyes on Josh. 

“Um, I'm Joshua. Joshua Palmer,” Josh said. 

For some reason he felt bad giving him his real name, like it was a gift the other man would just throw away. Usually he just gave a fake name, something normal and just as forgettable as him. This time, for some unfathomable reason, he felt like he wanted this peculiar man, who he had only just met, to remember him.

Joshua knew a little about who he was, of course. On the same night as Carlos the Scientist had arrived, the Apache Tracker had too. Cecil had reported extensively on the fake Native American, calling him a disgrace and cultural appropriator and lot's of other things. Joshua's father was a great man in many ways, but he wasn't good at finding out both sides of a story before making up his mind. Sometimes the management made up his mind for him too, of course. Joshua wasn't inclined to such snap judgments, and talking at this guy now, Joshua was certain there were more to the Apache Tracker than met the eye. 

“What's your name?” he ventured when the man didn't seem too keen on bashing his head in right away.

The Apache Tracker growled at him, his face contorting into a frown.

“James,” he muttered.

“What?” Joshua said. 

He had almost expected something more... exotic. But it didn't matter.

“Jamie for short, I guess”, the Apache Tracker continued, shrugging. 

Joshua couldn't believe his ears. The Apache tracker had a name, and he had told it to him. That meant something, some form of trust from his side, right? Joshua sighed happily as the Apache Tracker turned his gaze and continued to study the walls of the Post office.

“Jamie...” Joshua breathed, careful if he had been forgotten already.

“Yes?” James said and turned, but then he froze, staring at something behind Joshua's back.

“Hey, where did those guys come from?” he said, and then Joshua heard the whooshing sound of hooded figures passing by him to encircle the Apache Tracker. 

Frankly, Josh had never gotten why people avoided them, but then again, they never bothered him either. They seemed to be governed by the same rules as the rest of humanity, and as long as Joshua didn't make any kind of attempt to get their attention, they never noticed him. Now, as always, the took no interest in him, but closed in on the Apache Tracker. Watching the man's reaction to them, his face hardening, his shoulder moving up to his ears, fists knotted and ready to fight, Josh started to realize why people didn't like them. The Hooded figures crowded the Apache Tracker now, quiet in that way that let everyone around know that they were _very_ upset.

Joshua didn't know why, but he suddenly felt ill, watching them harass his new friend. At first, he felt kind of proud, watching The Apache Tracker take on the Hooded figures with all he had, not screaming or flailing in the slightest, just strength and quiet conviction from beginning to end.

“Bet he doesn't even flinch in the mornings,” Joshua thought, “waking up to find someone unknown in his bed. I bet he doesn't care, not even if they are men, and he doesn't remember meeting them...”

The thought and images filled Joshua's chest in an instant, and watching his friend fight, his fists bloody, his breath ragged, a new feeling rushed him. Josh knew his friend would survive, he would show up later on the radio show his father hosted. He would survive, but it did not make it easier to see him suffer. Joshua realized he hated to see him hurt. The Apache Tracker didn't look composed anymore, instead, a crazy, desperate glint swirled in his eyes as he charged the elusive creatures over and over and as they took turns harassing him with their long, multi-limbed, slightly opaque bodies. Joshua had always been a watcher, not an interferer, but this time he couldn't stand by. As the Hooded creatures crowded the Apache again, Joshua didn't even think, just reach out his hand. The cursed power of his ancestors buzzed in his veins, as he aimed for the dark shapes and snapped his fingers once.

The Hodded figures was gone instantly, leaving behind only a small cloud of black dust and a crouching, bleeding man.

“Where did they...?”

James staggered to his feet, looking up at Joshua. Josh looked into the blue eyes, waiting for the questions of who, what and why. 

“Joshua, right?” the Apache Tracker said.

Joshua felt a thrill in his chest. Could he keep him a bit longer? It began to seem that way. He stepped in just as James stumbled forward. 

“I'm bleeding pretty bad,” the Apache Tracker said, coughing, making a brave face before collapsing into Joshua's arms.

Joshua grabbed him tight and held James' limb body close for a second, breathing in his scent of blood, panic and sweat. He shook him and called his name a couple of times, but there was no answer. Joshua sighed.

“Hey, a little help here?” he whispered into the chunky post office air.

The Faceless Woman showed up a second later, her cheeks scrunched together in that way that a person without facial features does when she smiles.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” she purred, possibly delighted for some reason.

“The Hooded figures...” Joshua managed. 

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes they were inside a little wooden cottage. Joshua could see the Whispering Forrest through the windows and hoisted his friend's body a little higher so he could carry him to his bed. The Faceless Woman was already there, folding away the covers and clearing some spiders out of the way.

“Is this his house?” Joshua asked, unbelieving.

The Faceless Woman just nodded. Joshua swung around, gushing only a little about being in the Apache Tracker's home. He had a unassuming queen size bed next to the wall, a fire place, a little kitchen, a hallway, and that was pretty much it. The interior was spartan, all wood panels and plastic floors covered in old woven rugs. Everything looked worn and washed out, but clean.

“It seems so... normal.”

Joshua looked down on James worriedly, but he had stopped bleeding and was breathing peacefully. He could feel the Faceless Woman staring him down, and looked up at her beaming face, trying to seem unfazed by the attack on his new acquaintance.

“What?”

She looked like she was going to say something cheeky, but then she pursed her lips and just stared at him for a moment.

“You have to stay with him,” she said, suddenly all serious and matter-of-factly. “He could get worse, and the hooded figures will come back. They won't like what you did to their friends.”

“It was stupid of me to get involved,” he said, not even questioning her on staying with the man in his home. “I didn't think of the consequences. I regret it already.”

That was what Joshua always said when he was little and she had bashed him for letting himself be known and sometimes beaten up for the trouble. The excuses came natural to him. Normally, she'd pat his head and said that it would soon be forgotten anyway. This time, she moved close to him, so close he could feel her breath down his neck. Where did that breath come from? Did she even have a mouth?

“Not this time,” she murmured. “I'd better disappear, he's waking up.”

Joshua mumbled a quick “thank you” but she had already left. He looked down on the Apache Tracker in the bed, followed the lines of his calloused knuckles grabbing the pillow and his legs curled up to his stomach. Joshua had watched a lot of people sleep, and this guy slept like the bed was a ship wreck and he was holding on for dear life. He sighed like he was going to wake up, but then turned and continued to sleep. 

After a while Josh felt weird just standing around staring at his new friend. Joshua soundlessly lit some logs in the fire place, and then went to explore the kitchen, finding the cupboards and drawers well stocked. There was a bunch of ingenious devices and solutions to make sure every little nook was utilized, and when he had admired them thoroughly, he started to feel hungry. If he was, he thought James might be too. Josh found some bread in one of the cabinets, so he made some toast and boiled water for tea. Careful not to make any noise, he kept as soundless as he could, and the gingerly walking back to the bedroom with an large tray he had found in yet another drawer. Unfortunately, he found the bed empty. He froze, not wanting to to spill the hot liquid and ruin the meal. He stood still as he felt the other man sneak up behind him, holding a knife to his throat. Joshua swallowed thickly.

“Who are you?” the Apache Tracker hissed. 

He leaned into Joshua even as he threatened him, weak from the fight but too stubborn to acknowledge it. It would have been kind of sexy, Joshua thought, if there hadn't been two cups of scalding hot beverages to consider. He balanced the tray and tried to think of something to say.

“I'm Joshua Palmer, we met earlier when you were looking into the thing at the old post office...”

“I don't recall any such thing.”

The Apache Tracker drove his knife a bit harder into Joshua's neck. It made the Man in the Tan Jacket feel hungry and unbelievably grumpy.

“I have a condition, if you will,” he explained through gritted teeth, “where people don't remember me. Maybe if you just could put the knife down, we could...”

“How did you get in without tripping the alarms?” the Apache Tracker growled. The sound, combined with the press of the Tracker's body against Joshua's touch starved body, made his skin flush in a very annoying and not totally unpleasant way. 

“Look, can I put this down? The tea is getting cold,” he managed. 

The knife fell away and the Apache Tracker staggered back.

“You broke in here... to make tea?”

“No! Well...”

Joshua put the tray down and turned around to look at the man standing warily against the wall a couple of feet behind him, holding his arm. Joshua's heart melted at the confused and slightly scared look on his face, it was impossible for him to stay mad.

“You were attacked,” he said softly. “The Hooded Figures found you in the building and they surrounded you.”

“Still doesn't explain how you got in here,” the Apache Tracker gruffed, pressing down tighter on his arm.

“The Faceless Old woman got us in here, she does this thing where she's everywhere at once, and if you are nice she let's you come with,” Josh explained, letting his voice trail off as he noticed the Tracker's heavy breathing. There was a slow trail of blood dripping from his fingers and down into the rug.

“We should probably have that looked at,” Joshua added as casually as he could, looking around for something to tie the arm with.

The Tracker looked like he was going to argue again, but then nodded and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. He defeatedly motioned towards to the night stand.

“There is some gauze and tape in there.”

Joshua got to his knees in front of the man, carefully loosening his fingers around the dark fabric and easing his arm out of the sleeve. James closed his eyes, willing himself to breathe slowly. As Joshua worked, he found the sound unsettling and just to fill out the silence, he started humming the first thing that came to his mind. 

“Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”. Birds singing in the sycamore tree...”

He caught himself and guiltily looked up to see his friend stare at him. He felt himself blushing worse than ever before, and hoped the darkness would hide his embarrassment, but there were no such luck as the fire he had made catched on quite nicely and bathed them in a warm golden light. The Apache Tracker kept staring at him.

“Are you choking?” he asked.

“No,” Joshua said, hemming and finishing up his make shift bandage with hasty movements. 

“That's a very strange color to turn when embarrassed.”

“I know,” he said, cringing, not able to make the gauze stick fast enough.

“You said... that people don't remember you.”

“Yes,” Joshua said and moved to put the medical stuff away. 

It was a long time since he had ever talked this long to someone, and even longer since anyone had known his name and condition. It was thrilling but also made him sad because he knew it wouldn't last long. Josh flinched when the Apache Tracker firmly grabbed his hand, squinting into his eyes.

“Sounds lonely,” the man said. 

Joshua couldn't help but revel at the warm touch, and his reaction made him even sadder. 

“Yes,” he said, gathering himself, “but I'm used to it.”

James let go of him, and Joshua sat back a little. 

“Thanks,” the man said, slowly, like he wasn't used to speak to anyone either, gesturing to the bandage, “for...”

Joshua quickly made his way back to the tray. 

“The tea hasn't cooled completely,” he said, his tone neutral. “you should have some before it does.”

The Apache Tracker rose. There were no other means of seating besides the bed, so he moved the tray so it was between them. Neither of them spoke as he tucked his legs under him and started munching on one of the buttered wheat product. Joshua felt less irritated as soon as he got some food, but couldn't eat much as the butterflies in his stomach started as soon as he looked up at the other man. What was with him today? Why couldn't he act normal?

The fire cast interesting shadows as they sat there, listening to the sparks and the silence outside. Joshua didn't think the Hooded Figures would send anyone at night, but he kept his eyes and ears open anyway. This also meant repeatedly glancing up at his friend to ensure he was still there. He looked more like an Native American with just his jeans on, the headdress rising majestically as he slowly ate.

“Why do you wear that?” Joshua asked when he couldn't take the silence any longer.

The other man looked at him and paused for a long time before answering. 

“I used to be in a production,” he said. “Before all this. On Broadway.”

“That's nice,” Joshua nodded. “Was it a big part?”

“You know about Broadway out here?” 

The Apache Tracker seemed surprised.

“I've lived other places besides Night Vale,” Joshua smiled. “Of course I know about Broadway.”

The Tracker seemed pleased.

“It wasn't that big of a part,” he explained, “but my manager said it would open a lot of doors. 'There aren't a lot of parts out there for people like you', I remember him saying.” 

Joshua listened and nodded. The man, James, came alive in front of him, laughed and gesticulated widely as he described the life at the stage. 

“...and then I said, 'you can't put me in a box, I can do anything, turn into anyone'...”

The Apache Tracker suddenly stopped talking, like he realized where he was. He lowered his hands and looked at them like it was the first time he had seen them. His eyes went blank for a moment, and then he looked up at Joshua.

“One day I was James Daniels, a tall Irish boy. I had freckles and red hair and a scar on my left leg from when my mother threw a knife at me for being late for supper. Next day, I had black hair, black skin and scars on my back from whipping. I lost my job at the theater. No one would listen to me. I lived on the streets. Then one day, I changed again, and I was young French man. I don't know how, I just spoke and French came out. I got a job as poster boy for a big company, that same day. A couple of months later, I wake up like this. Haven't changed since. I was just doing my thing, working as a private investigator, and suddenly I am here. Can you blame me for being a little fucked up and not able to take this off?”

James panted a little as he pointed to his headdress. Joshua shook his head.

“Can't blame you,” he agreed. 

The man opposite him crooked his head and just looked at him.

“Aren't you going to, I don't know, tell me I'm crazy?” the Apache Tracker asked, a challenge in his voice.

“You don't sound that crazy to me,” Joshua said, drinking the last of his tea. 

“I don't?” the Apache Tracker said, a surprised tone in his voice.

“No,” Joshua said. “Are you finished? How do you feel?”

“I...yes, I feel fine, I feel fine.”

The man seemed a little blown away, and Joshua gave him a worried look. 

“You do look a little pale. Don't move, I'll get you some water, okay?”

“Okay,” James said, looking up at him with such a raw expression in his eyes that Joshua got a lump in his throat.

He took the tray away, filled a pitcher and was back in under five minutes. It wasn't fast enough.

“Who are you?” the Apache Tracker asked, his face back into a scowl, and for the third time that day, Joshua gave him his name. 

Ten seconds later, they were fighting. In retrospect, Joshua wished he hadn't made him so much toast. It had given him the energy to not listen to reason.  
“I know your name is James, I met you when you were investigating the post office...”

“Liar, I was there by myself,” the man shouted.

“I am hard to remember, okay? I have a condition!”

They were fighting close combat in the small cottage, and the Apache Tracker had better knowledge of where the stashed knifes were. 

“I don't want to fight, we are friends, you told me about your transformations...”

“What are you, a mind reader? That doesn't change a thing!”

The Apache Tracker showed Joshua against the back wall, another knife at his throat. The man pressed a leg against Joshua's groin and Joshua couldn't help but react to the sudden bodily contact with a gasp. He started to babble, just to keep James from noticing.

“I made you tea and tied your wounds up after getting rid of the Hooded Figures. I got here with the Faceless Old Woman, she raised me because she is the only one who remembers me. You used to work at the theater, on Broadway, and you were Irish...”

The Apache Tracker removed the knife slowly. The knee and arm stayed though, and Joshua cursed his body for betraying him like that, even at knife point. His friend squinted up at him and crooked his head. 

“You know a lot about me,” he said, hesitantly.

“Only what you told me,” Joshua panted, his heart raising a thousand miles an hour. 

There was no way James couldn't see what his proximity was doing to him. The Apache Tracker slowly eyed him up and down, without a doubt seeing what was happening. Then, he wet his lips. Joshua couldn't believe it. Was he... nervous?

“Did we...?”

At first Joshua was unsure what the other man was asking, but when he realized, he felt a surge run through him, like an electric charge, and he couldn't help but squirm a little.

“We only met today, you know,” Joshua pressed out. 

“You could be lying, and I would never know,” his friend argued. 

Joshua gasped, but this time from indignation.

“I would never...!”

That was as far as he got before the man connected his lips with his, letting him go so he could embrace him instead. 

It was by far the most interesting day Joshua had had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like this, please leave a kudos<3


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